


(and you'll be) a better son or daughter

by nightshifted



Category: Glee
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-13
Updated: 2011-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-26 01:34:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/277106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightshifted/pseuds/nightshifted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike extends a hesitant arm, reaching for something he recognizes: sadness that comes only from a parent's rejection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(and you'll be) a better son or daughter

Mike Chang considers himself fortunate. He lives a comfortable life in a nice home that stays warm through Ohio winters. He has clothes to wear, food to eat, and a family to go home to. He gets good grades, and he stays out of trouble, and he's been told that he's pretty tough to stay mad at.

Mike has purpose; he knows that. He has dreams and ambitions and _passion_. Dancing makes him happy. Performing in front of a live audience gives him an unparalleled rush. It's what he wants to do for the rest of his life, and he has the talent and drive to make it. He _knows_ that.

Things have been pretty strained with his dad since he stood up for his own dreams, effectively crushing his father's dreams of him ever becoming a surgeon. But Mike brings home two tickets anyway and hands one to his father. It sits untouched on the kitchen counter for an entire day before Mike's mother takes it and tucks both tickets into her purse. Out of sight, out of mind.

Mike overhears them talking in hushed tones late at night when they think he's asleep. They speak of dreams and opportunities and integrity, of the medical community, of the entertainment industry.

"I just want him to live a comfortable life, Julia," Mike hears his father say.

"He loves to dance," a softer voice – his mother's – replies.

" _Now_. He wants to dance now. Dancing is for—it's for _xiao gu niang_. There's no future in dance. You know that. That's why you quit."

"I quit because _my_ parents were unsupportive of my dreams." Her voice is strained, tinged with anger. "Our job isn't to stifle his dreams, Michael."

"No, our job is to guide him to a fulfilling career. He won't find that in dance."

Mike squeezes his eyes shut and pulls the covers over his head. He grabs his iPod off his night table, plugs in his ear buds, and lets the sounds of the West Side Story soundtrack soothe him to sleep.

\--

He sees his mother in the crowd, beaming, applauding, _glowing_ , and yeah, he's man enough to admit that he might've shed a tear or two. Still, Mike's eyes can't help but flicker to the empty seat next to her. It stings, knowing that his father disapproves so much of something he loves and wants to do for the rest of his life.

He slips backstage to wait for his next number, finding an abandoned bench in a quiet corner to reflect and regroup.

"My father didn't show either," a soft voice says, interrupting the silence.

Mike looks up and finds Quinn standing before him in full Graziella get-up, her hair curled around her face, her beige dress clinging to her body. She wrings her hands, red nails flashing in the dark.

Quinn offers a small smile. "I couldn't help but overhear…"

Mike smiles back, palms sweaty as he shuffles along the bench to make room for Quinn, who sits down beside him, her right hip pressing against his left.

"My mother," Quinn starts, and then she smiles and shakes her head. "She was late, but she was here. She tries so hard to be supportive now that it's just the two of us."

Mike's not quite sure why Quinn's telling him all this, but he listens attentively anyway, counts the times her eyelashes flutter. She breathes in through her nose and lets out a sigh.

"I'm sorry." A light flush creeps up her neck. "I didn't come here to talk about me. I, uh—I overheard. Not on purpose, but I was at my locker, and—"

"You heard my dad disown me," Mike offers with a short laugh.

Quinn's eyes widen. "No! I just—"

"Quinn," Mike cuts in, "it's okay. My dad's very set in tradition. It just took me until now, until glee, to stand up to him."

Quinn softens visibly, her shoulders falling. "I never got a chance to stand up to mine."

"Not all it's cracked up to be," Mike says, trying to make light of the situation, but the words leave his lips cold and hard.

Quinn swallows thickly, eyes flickering away. "I always thought that as long as I was perfect, as long as I did everything right, that it would buy my parents' affection." She takes a ragged breath, then another. She lets out a bitter laugh, rolling her eyes at herself. "I came here with the intention of telling you that I could relate, but it seems you're handling this a lot better than I am."

Mike extends a hesitant arm, reaching for something he recognizes: sadness that comes only from a parent's rejection. There's a distinct kind of ache that comes from knowing that even a person biologically programmed to love and nurture you can't or won't.

"Quinn."

Quinn holds up her hand to stop him, and he drops back. She forces a shaky smile. "Sorry," she whispers.

"No, I get it," Mike says, shaking his head and waiting.

And maybe that's all either of them wants: someone who understands, who won't ask stupid questions or offer unwarranted advice, or worse, sympathy. _You're better than him_ , others would say. _You deserve better_. But Mike understands that better isn't always what the heart wants. He doesn't want someone "better" to be proud of him, and instinctively, he knows that Quinn gets it too.

A moment later, Quinn leans her head down on his shoulder, her hand seeking his on his lap. She threads her fingers through his, her grip unyielding.

"You know," Quinn broaches, her voice raw and surprisingly guarded, "in the movie, Graziella was Riff's girlfriend."

Mike's lips upturn. "Yeah?"

A soft laugh leaves Quinn's lips. "Yeah."

\--

After, she fixes her hair and blinks away the moisture in her eyes, smiles sadly at Mike before twisting away to prepare for the next act.

That night, long after the audience has died down, long after his mother hugs and congratulates him, long after his father ignores him, Mike Chang sleeps soundly.

 

 _fin_


End file.
